


Something All Our Own

by Churbooseanon



Series: Guns For Hire [17]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Guns For Hire AU, Mercenaries, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories chronicling the unlikely relationship between two mercenaries and the desire they have for something neither of them ever expected to want: a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> In the process of being part of a GFH RP group, the ship of Florida/Texas happened, and some how the idea of them as parents happened as well. And so I seek to explore this possibility in just some random short stories.
> 
> This has no temporal or continuity relation to my other GFH works.

In the course of a life there are no small number of things that one never expects to come to love, to cherish. The taste of a single meal that evokes the memory of a day without compare. The smell of laundry just out of the dryer because of the knowledge that a good deed does not go unthanked. The particular curve of a smile, or the lilt of a laugh of a beloved partner. 

For Florida, for Butch Flowers, there is the feel of soft flesh under his fingers as his hand trails up over a long thigh. The skin he explores with his meandering touch is soft as silk, strong as steel, and tastes of peaches. He should know, he’s worshipped this body often enough over the years with fingers and lips and tongue. Done other things to it as well, but those are things to contemplate when his whole body isn’t already buzzing with the low, post orgasmic bliss of their joining. 

Slowly fingers reach shoulder and circle back down, stroking through the valley of her breasts, and when that prompts a bit of an annoyed groan from his lover, his tries to smother his pleased chuckle and smirk in the skin of her shoulder. His tongue flashes out and yes, she still tastes of peaches, but also of salt. This draws another sigh from her as his hands glide further down, over the strength of her body, the light tone of her abs, and the softening of skin that… 

“You actually can’t help yourself, can you?” 

In the past Florida might have thought it a chiding, or annoyed comment from her. Now, though, he knows better. Far better. Of course, it helps that her left hand comes down to tangle with his, angled just enough so that the simple gold bands they wore pressed together. It’s a touch of intimacy he couldn’t have expected from his partner years back. But her hand in his kept him from doing much more but softly circling his thumb around on her skin. 

“I can’t,” he admits, whispered into the flawlessness of her skin. “Not even remotely.”

They were… there was perfection in this moment. A happiness that was so deep in him that it bubbled up more genuinely than many smiles before him ever had, though he expected many more to follow. 

“Pest,” she answers, and he can sense the rolling of her eyes in the tension of her shoulders. 

“Tell me this isn’t what we wanted, Reina,” he whispers in her ear, moving his lips to kiss along the sweet flesh. “Something we’ve been working toward for months.”

“Would have been easier if you didn’t take that job off-planet,” she snipes, but there is no heat behind her words. 

How many people alive would ever believe that Texas was capable of holding back the true edge of her anger or annoyance? But Florida knew, knows, because he gets these tender moments with his wife. These vulnerable moments as she settles their hands in place, protective, over her stomach. Together, they can do this. Will do this. Be the strength that will be needed. 

“You think about names yet?” he asks. 

Florida winces as Tex kicks him in the ankle.

“Really, idiot?” Tex laughs lightly. “I just confirmed it today. What do you expect of me?”

“Planning, Tex!” he counters, untangling a finger from hers to poke her in the belly. “Come on, one of us has a family here, the other one doesn’t. You’re supposed to guide is in this.”

“You’re going to be a good father.”

Her voice is a soft whisper, a reassurance that this… really is doable. Florida has to wonder about it, though. His own past is… less than stellar in the family area. The closest thing he knows about how to be a good father is how to be a good ‘Uncle Butch’ to the younger Ais. She’s the one with a family. With siblings and schools and playdates. Granted Delta and Omega handle most of that, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t in a better position. 

“We should get a house,” he continues, because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s nervous now like he never was before. “A house, and a bedroom just for our new…”

“Don’t jinx it,” she says softly. Her hand squeezes his, and Florida grows quiet. “Just… let us have this moment, before it could go away.”

He nuzzles against her shoulder and stays silent. Of course he understands. There is no way Tex is going to give up her work just yet. Which means there are risks. Which they both have to accept. Have to live with. Have to process. But that is borrowing trouble, and he just holds her close. Today is a day to revel in the good news. 

“I love you,” he whispers to her. 

“Sap,” she accuses, but her voice is soft, and he knows that in this moment, it’s as close as she’ll come to saying it. 

And the press of their hands against her skin is their own promise. To do the best they can for their future. For the child they seek to have. 

Woe befall anyone who ever dares to tell their child that they aren’t good enough.


	2. Room To Grow

“Butch, this is the fifth or sixth we’ve seen today. Can we just stop? I want to get a real lunch.”

Florida chuckled, not even bothering to respond to that. They both know that it wasn’t lunch that had her worked up. Not that Texas would admit to being tired or footsore. His beloved Reina was a proud woman, and it was part of what he loved about her. She didn’t need help, she didn’t want help, even after all the years they’ve been together. But this was the final house they were going to visit today, and he had to make sure they tried it. Having a family wasn’t exactly something that you did lightly. When you wanted one, you made sure you had the room for it. Or so Florida had heard. Thus this, their search for a new, family friendly home to house their soon to be family.

“Come on,” Florida smiled, offering her his arm. There were moments he was glad of his chivalrous streak. It meant that she could take his arm now and rest some of her weary body against him without it being a blow to her pride, or an affront to her strength. After all, she always took his arm when he offered if they weren’t back at the base or around her family. When it was them then he could be courteous and she could trust him, for just a moment, to be her strength. 

“After this one we’ll go back,” he promised. Back to his safehouse turned into their secure place to let her family visit, and to the hearty and healthy meal he has made for them both. 

“Yeah, you said that last time,” she countered, hardly sounding impressed. 

“And this time I mean it,” he laughed, guiding her up and toward the door. Once they were at the control pad he punched in the access code to open the airlock to them, and pulled her with him. He’d been lucky to get a real estate broker that was willing to look the places over themselves. It had taken a touch of blackmail, of course, but this wasn’t the sort of thing they were prone to sharing. 

“If you don’t, I’m going to kick your ass,” Texas warned him, and even though Florida chuckled in response, he knew she was quite serious. 

“I know, love, I know,” he assured her as he closed the airlock door behind them and set the thing to filter. For half a moment he got to enjoy the sensation of her leaning against him, just briefly, and then the inner door opened. 

The sight that he was presented with almost took his breath away. The door opened into a lovely entrance hall, the helmet charging stations by the door made of lovely, decorative wood with embellished work on the sides. The hall itself was covered with beautiful faux-wood, the grain on it almost looking real with the beautiful shine it had been polished to. Already he could imagine the soft rug he would put in front of the door, the little shoes abandoned by the door, maybe a rain coat hung up on a hook. 

He was getting sentimental in his old age. 

“Waste of space,” Tex observed as she stepped forward without him. 

“Just because you’ve never had one doesn’t mean it is a waste of space,” Florida countered, following her toward the open room beyond. It was a moderately sized with mediocre carpeting, but how hard would it be to set it up with soft, stain-resistant carpet? From what the Ai brothers said, children made messes. There were spills, there were mistakes, there were accidents, and he would happily clean them all up. 

“This looks good,” she admitted, already moving across the living room, bare of any furniture, and within seconds she was sitting in the bay window. An actual, honest to god bay window. Florida hadn’t seen those since he was back on Genos. A far distant childhood which he cared not to think about, except for in the beautiful, shining moments called forth by sights like the beautiful blonde woman sitting on the wood, staring through the window. The light of the sun through the drapes made her skin positively glow. Radiant. Yes, that was the only way he could describe her. 

The woman, so help him, was the most beautiful thing he could fathom. 

“We could get pillows for it,” Florida noted. As he approached she pulled her legs up, making space for him to sit on the opposite corner. Immediately he obliged, curling up across from her. There was plenty of room for them to share like this. Add blankets and they could handle any weather in comfort. “In fact, a nice long cushion to sit on, pillows for your back, and I could knit a soft throw for us.”

“Always looking for an excuse, aren’t you?” she chuckled, shaking her head. 

“Let’s be happy I haven’t started on baby booties and hats and onesies,” Florida teased, his foot coming out to nudge her leg.

“Why haven’t you yet?” she asked, smiling softly at him. 

“Need to know the colors,” Florida grins. “I mean, I can make neutral ones, but I figured I’d want some to go with the nursery, and we need a place to have a nursery before we talk colors.”

“You really are getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Tex shook her head, uncoiling herself as she stood. “Come on, we haven’t seen much of this place yet.”

No, he supposed they hadn’t. Florida stood as well, offering his hand. After a moment Tex accepted, tangling their fingers together of her own accord. He let her tug him on toward the dining room. There was still so much to go, so many places to search, so many little details to find, but right now? 

In that last moment with her bathed in that light and absolutely glowing with the height of her life and vitality, and shining almost with the new life growing within her, Florida knew this would be the place. He needed her in this light, in this place. Everything else could be made to suit them if he could just have her here in this place, looking like that. 

“Alright then. Let’s go see more, beloved. Need plenty of space here. And we both know how important the kitchen is going to be to me.”

“Cooking freak,” she teased. 

“Ah, but I am your cooking freak,” he countered with a wink. Which was all that mattered. That no matter what, he was hers.


	3. Caramel Popcorn

Her mouth is like a dream. Always ways. There seemed no end of the times she could press hot kisses into his skin, to the bites or scratches or finger presses so hard into his skin to leave bruises. God how his love always knows how to act, how to push, how to drive him wild without even needing to break out the…

Most mercenaries learn to come awake with the tiniest noise that doesn’t fit, the lightest touch, or with anything else out of the ordinary. Florida was even worse about changes around him waking him up. He was more than a simple trained assassin, and it had taken years for him to learn how to share a bed with someone as restless as Beta. It was the dreams. They’d gotten worse over the years. Not the ones about jobs, neither of them had a thing about regretting the work they did. No, his beloved was troubled by the fact that she, even now, couldn’t remember what her life was like as a child, before she was taken away. 

All his years at her side, and he had gotten used to sleeping through her fits at night. 

That didn’t mean he could sleep through a kick in the ass. Especially one that was so hard that Florida found himself knocked to the floor. Florida came fully awake with the kick and if he hadn’t been moving so fast from the strike, he might have kept himself from falling. As it was his knee ached, and his shoulder throbbed with deep pain. For half a moment he feared another tear of his rotator cuff, but the throbbing stopped just as quickly as it started, and he pushed himself up to glare at the woman still on the bed. 

God bless the fact that they had yet to pick out a bedframe and so they were currently sleeping on a boxspring and mattress put straight on the floor. It was close enough to the floor for him to sit up, cross his arms against the edge of the bed, and rest his chin on them to glare at her. 

Sure enough there were those lovely eyes staring at him. Clearly she was unimpressed by his flailing fall. Or by his baleful glare. There was a clarity to her expression that said the kick hadn’t been accidental. No, it was premeditated and maliciously intended. 

“What,” he asked, voice level and far from content as his eyes flashed to the digital clock and back, “could possess you to do such a cruel thing to a sleeping man at three in the morning?”

Across the bed the woman watched him for a while, as if she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say. No, clearly she had something to say, but didn’t know whether she should or not. Which meant Florida sat up straighter, and she didn’t seem happy about that either. 

“What is it, love? Is everything okay?” 

Concern bubbled up through him like it only did when he was worried about her. Butch half crawled, half climbed back into the bed and across to her, only to have Texas roll her eyes at him. 

“You’re overreacting,” she assured him, looking away. 

“Reina, tell me or I’m going to sit here and pout at you all night.”

With a sigh she shook her head, and then she finally sat up. “I’m hungry.”

Her voice was a mumble but he heard it anyway. For a moment he stared at her, trying to figure out just what she meant, and then it hit her. 

Cravings.

He’d read about this online. Sometimes women who were pregnant had urges to consume strange things at inexplicable points and it was his duty as her husband and the father of their child to fulfill her craving at the first possible moment. He’d been looking forward to this moment. The chance to rush out there and prove not only his dedication, but his skill at acquiring whatever she or their family would need at any moment of the day. Including three in the morning after he had spent a long, tired day with her finishing up the nursery with new carpets, not to mention putting in all the furniture and starting on the comfortable nook by the window for her. 

It was his job to fulfill all her needs and he was excited. 

“What could possibly be your wildest fantasy, my beloved?”

“Caramel popcorn.”

Florida sat there for a while, just blinking at her in shock. Caramel covered popcorn? She woke him for caramel popcorn when they…?

“I wanted to make sure you were okay with me eating the bag,” Tex answered, looking away and her words were just a mumble under her breath. 

He couldn’t help but laugh as he stood and got off the bed. Once he was standing he held his hand out to her. “Come on, there is no way I’m letting you get crumbs in our new bed. Stealing the treat I bought for myself is one thing, but crumbs are completely unacceptable.”

Laughter, insincere and bordering on patronizing, greeted him as she took his hand. Once she was standing Florida helped his wife into her robe and led her out toward the kitchen. He’d just have to buy another bag when he went on a grocery run tomorrow. For now giving up his special treat was more than worth it. 

Still, he was going to harass her tomorrow if he found bruises. After all, she’d only had to ask.


	4. Supervisory Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has to be perfect for their child. Including the first bedroom.

There were a number of reasons why this room was the perfect one. On the outward facing wall was another bay window, this one facing out east, where there will be warm light from the rising sun. Of course there were other things they had considered the room for. They were going to need an office for Florida processing his information web, the remaining part of his mercenary work. Then there was the fact that her family visited more than often enough to warrant the guest rooms they were going to have to work on in the future. Florida could even imagine turning this place into the master bedroom, even with how much smaller it was than the proper master suite, if only for the bay window for Tex’s use. His lovely Beta, framed in the morning sun. 

“You missed a spot.”

Of course, when it came down to it, there were times that his beloved could be a horrible person. In fact, he’d use the word ‘bitch’ if it were not for the fact that she seemed to know whenever he the word came to mind. It didn’t even matter if he was praising the attitude she used with those people she faced on the other side of a contract. So he very pointedly didn’t think of the word as he turned and smiled his widest and most completely not actually annoyed smile. Better not to start a fight, because even with the reduced endurance and the occasional back pain, she could still kick his ass if she put her mind to it. Which she would enjoy and then laugh about. 

So Butch took a deep breath, smoothed himself down to a normal, fond smile, and he tilted his head briefly to the side. 

“Where would that be, love?”

He met those beautiful, nearly violet eyes across the room, and his smile grew warmer still. Of course it did. The look of his beloved wife sitting there on the floor on a tiny pile of cushions, a socket wrench in one hand and screwdriver tucked over her ear, the pieces of the soon to be crib on the floor before her, well it made him feel so warm. Of course the amused curve of her lips only told him how serious she was. Such a beautiful…

“Don’t you even think that word,” she warned him, and then gestured toward the wall. “About three inches to your left, there is a light spot.”

Of course she would be wrong, but Florida wasn’t going to chide her just yet. His poor beloved just had trouble with some things now that she was so far along. Her tempers were deeper, harder to control. Yet they came less often, replaced with a pensive fondness that Butch thought might melt the heart of the man he had been in the years before he had met her. Still, there was a tension to her shoulders that he longed to rub away. To bad paint was splattered across his hands. 

He turned his attention to the spot she had indicated and, ready to be triumphant, he wilted at the sight. Sure enough there was a spot in the emerald green band he was painting around the whole of the room. The days before had been dedicated to the room itself being coated in a softer blue that she had selected for the room. The emerald green band would soon enough be covered with stencils of playful black bear cubs, the motif they had chosen for the den of their own cub. But if that was going to happen he had to have everything, including this middle section, perfect. 

“Dammit,” he cursed lightly under his breath. 

Which, of course, drove her to giggling. Texas, Beta, his queen, giggling. It was a beautiful thing to see, and more beautiful to hear. At least his failing had pleased her. Still, he turned around to regard her, a pout on his lips. 

“And what about you, huh?” he asked, looking pointedly at the instructions at her side. It was quite clear from the crumpling of the booklet that the construction process wasn’t going nearly so well as Texas would want to insist it was. While she couldn’t stand long enough to paint, she had insisted on being helpful in setting up the nursery. The task of constructing the crib had seemed fitting, and now he was quite certain that it would definitely keep her occupied tonight, or at least until she decided that it was time for her to sleep. Then Florida would quickly clean himself up, help her to bed, and return to his painting work. 

The crib, though, was no more progressed now than it had been ten minutes ago. Apparently she was having some serious problems, either because of the instructions being far more complex than should make sense, or something else was up. 

“The instructions are in Portuguese!” she protested. “How the fuck am I supposed to read them?”

“Follow the pictures, dear,” he suggested, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. 

Texas rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. 

“I would, but it’s still slow going because all of the holes and joints are marked, but with tiny ass stickers,” she growled, her foot snapping out to kick one of the pieces aside. 

He could tell she wasn’t actually angry, but the little pouting gesture was still wonderful. Back when they’d first started dating she never would have admitted frustration with something like a bit of construction. Nor, he supposed, would he have been so upset over a bit of uneven paint. They would both have to do better, though. This sort of behavior wouldn’t possibly be acceptable around a little one. But maturity would wait for another day. 

“Want some help?” he offered, already knowing just how she would respond. 

“Want your hair to be green?” she asked, her voice that special sort of sweet that she saved for when she was threatening him or her brothers. 

“Perhaps,” he laughed. “But I think that should wait until I’ve got all this painted first. Matching paints after they’ve been mixed can be so imprecise.”

“Then you better hurry up and get it done,” she cooed at him. “Because I see green in your future, whether you’re done or not.”

Florida laughed, shaking his head, and returned to his task. 

Thing was, he wouldn’t put it past her to do just that, and so he returned to his painting with a will.


	5. What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the hardest things, of course, is figuring out a name they both like.

The book kept appearing all around the house. At first Tex had done her best to ignore it, not because she wasn’t willing to think about it, but because she was offended at the idea that the name for their child should come from some book. So she ignored the thing, pointedly, whenever it appeared in her presence. She ignored it when it was left on the back of the toilet. Ignored it when it was left on the coffee table, and didn’t even blink when it stays on her nightstand three days in a row. The very suggestion implied in it was ridiculous. 

The escalation came, of course. She knew it would. Butch was a man who built things up slowly. If the subtle route didn’t work, then he would move to more overt. Tex figured there was probably something before the book that she hadn’t noticed. Which made the way Butch flopped down on the couch next to her one evening, no book or knitting in hand, and just pouted at her the next level. There was clearly displeasure radiating off of him, enough that Rex didn’t come running to jump on the couch between them like the old dog always did these days.

So… they’d reached the giving her weird looks phase. With a deep and clearly annoyed sigh, she set her bookmark in place and put the book aside. Not like she had to finish the thing tonight if she was going to properly host Delta’s bookclub for him while he was out of town. No, this was something Butch clearly needed to do now, and so she was going to throw the older of her two mutts a bone. Chill expression in place, she turned her attention to her husband and frowned. 

“Yes?”

“You haven’t even thought about it, have you?” 

Well, that was surprisingly to the point for him. Tex almost wanted to give the man a little medal for getting to the point. But that would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? They were both bad at what might be construed as serious conversations about their relationship. Always had been, probably always would be. They still tried. They were better at trying now than they’d been in the beginning. She’d gotten used to the fact that he’d always be there, always wait for her no matter how far she went away from him. He’d gotten used to the idea of someone seeing him as a person, remembering him for the kind words and tenderness and not the fact that he probably knew twenty different ways to kill a man with a sponge. Time moved on, they changed, and they were almost starting to accept that. Just like it was really starting to hit home that this was happening. 

With that thought her hand went to her swollen belly, stroking over it. How often these days did she find herself curled protectively around herself, around the life growing inside of her? Truth be told, she didn’t want to think about it. So instead she looked to Butch and frowned. 

“Of course I have,” she answered simply. “But isn’t it early?”

“Beta, love, I don’t think it is,” Butch countered. “Our son needs a name. Maybe we won’t have anything set in stone, but I want to start seriously thinking about this. Is that okay?”

Of course, what he actually meant was that he had already put a lot of thought into names and he wanted her approval of those he liked. Somehow she doubted that would happen. She’d seen a lot of the names he used to use on fake identities. They weren’t exactly stunning. They didn’t have the ring she wanted for her child. They just weren’t… right. 

“Fine,” she allowed anyway, because clearly this needed off of his chest. “Give me your best three candidates.”

“Brant,” Butch offered, a smile on his face like he was some puppy who had just performed a trick right and expected a treat. When Tex didn’t respond he just rolled on with the next offering. “Alright then, what would you think of Bradley?”

That one actually prompted Tex to roll her eyes. Bradley? Brad? No, she wasn’t exactly big on that name at all. At least Brant had some potential. 

“No?” Butch asked with a sigh. “Well, good thing I saved the best for last I guess. What would you think of Bernie?”

“I’m noticing a pattern,” Tex chuckled, shaking her head. “Butch, all of those names start with a B. Got a hard-on for that letter or something?”

The initial look of offense that flashed over his face at her amusement, softened with the rest of what Tex said. Oh. There… was actually something going on there. So she reached forward, offering her hand, and sure enough Butch took the offering. Took it and seemed relieved. 

“Doesn’t it make sense, though?” Butch asked, his voice low. “Butch and Beta. They both begin with B. It’s fitting.”

Oh. Yes, that did explain some of the pattern. But Tex squeezed his hand, shaking her head. “But your name isn’t Butch. And given my family history, do you really think I’m a fan of naming patterns?”

There was an expression on his face that sort of said ‘oh god how could I make that mistake?’ Again she squeezed his hand, hoping to calm him down. After a moment he nodded, because he had gotten it. The point was delivered. 

“Well, then, what do you think in the terms of names?” Butch asked. 

“I clearly haven’t put as much thought into it as you have, but I suppose I wouldn’t mind something like Jake.”

Butch made a slight hum of distaste as he leaned in to rest his head against her legs. “What else?”

“Riley?”

She could feel his head shaking and Tex shrugged. There would be time to convince him later. Still, there was one more…

“Michael.”

When Butch sat up she could see the small smile of approval on his lips. 

“Michael. I like that.” 

Good. Tex smiled, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Thanks, hun.”

“That’s the patron of soldiers, right?” he asked, amusement and approval in his voice. 

“Funny that,” Tex chuckled in agreement. 

Seemed like they might have reached a decision whether she’d intended to or not. Once more her hand returned to the swell of her belly, stroking over the fabric of her shirt. Michael. Their son would be Michael. And she’d teach him how to live up to that name.


End file.
